


Story and Pictures

by sunlight_moonlight



Category: Suspiria (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Drabble Collection, Drama & Romance, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Ghosts, Lesbian Sex, Multi, No Lesbians Die, Resurrection, Self-Insert, Supernatural Elements, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24744769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlight_moonlight/pseuds/sunlight_moonlight
Summary: A collection of short writings about the inhabitants of the Markos Tanzgruppe, set throughout and all around the events of the film. Set in my own very specific self-insert AU.(Largely unbeta'd, chapters varying in length, and still a lot of Olga)
Relationships: 'Blue'/Olga Ivanova, Susie Bannion/Madame Blanc, You/Olga Ivanova
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Flame

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i just wanted to say that 'blue' is the character intended to be the reader in some instances, and she is my self insert. i have her with a set personality and pronouns and everything so for the reader to imagine her as themselves will probably not be that easy sometimes, but i do plan to write her/have written her with more neutral pronouns and descriptions in the past, so hopefully it'll be more convenient that way! thank you!
> 
> i will also be using this to drop my random writings and little drabbles about suspiria 2018, and i hope y'all like it! idk how many chapters this will be or how long it'll go on or if i'll turn it into a more specific thing, so we'll see! however you will see as many characters as i can write here so look forward to that ,':^)

“Olga.”  
Olga stirred in the bed where she lay, squinting her closed eyes and scrunching her nose. Blue was whispering her name. She shoved Olga gently.  
“ _Olga_.”  
“Mmmh?” Olga groaned, moving beneath her blanket wrap and forcing her eyes open. Oh, God, what time was it? She glanced at the clock quickly. Three forty in the morning.  
“What is it?” she whispered back to Blue groggily, sounding more irritated than she really was--she was just tired more than anything. Yesterday had been long and taxing in learning Susie’s newest class creation, and Olga was still working on getting her body back into dancing shape after the events of late 1977. She took in a deep, sleepy breath, blinking her eyes.  
“There’s something over there.”  
“Where?” she asked, looking around the room. Not this again.  
“By the closet,” Blue answered. She lifted a hand nervously and pointed over Olga’s chest, and Olga looked. Needless to say, something was there. It was hard to see in the dark but it was clearly a black shape of some kind, humanoid in stature but with no defining features (no visible limbs), and it was not furniture because to have anything sit there would block Blue’s closet door. She never pushed anything over there for that reason.  
Now Olga was stiffer, and certainly more awake. Not scared, though, it didn’t scare her; it was becoming more of a nuisance to her at this point than anything else. Blue, though...she’d admitted that it freaked her out. Neither of them knew what this thing really was, and apparently, neither exactly did Susie. They’d asked her when the thing began to appear not long after Olga’s return, and she claimed she couldn’t identify it, but that it likely meant it was just a general spirit and nothing more. Why them, though? Olga had her own questions still, like was their ability to see it because of their little venture with the coven, and where did it come from, was it someone who died in the building or someone--something--else…

(Olga remembered when that was her. She remembered when she was caught by the neck between life and death, unable to do anything or rest even in the dark. Hiding in corners and watching: her friends, Blue, the matrons.   
And then Susie watched her back.)

Olga sat up slowly, not breaking eye contact with the thing. Susie had given them one piece of advice. “Blue,” Olga said, louder now, confident, to her partner who stayed laying in the bed behind her. Olga removed her hand from under the sheets and offered it to her. Blue stared at the hand, then at Olga, before hesitantly taking it. She was apprehensive, but knew what she had to do. Olga stood from the bed, and then so did Blue, side by side, both making sure to look at the shape. It wavered a little, and Olga turned on the lamp. She turned it back off. On, then off.  
It disappeared without a trace.  
A little smirk appeared on Olga’s face. She looked at Blue triumphantly, the smirk turning into a comforting smile. Blue looked up at her with tense eyes but smiled, too, smiled little by little before it was full across her face. Olga hummed, beaming down at her love, rubbing her hand with a thumb. She leaned over and kissed Blue on the lips. “There, see? Gone,” she said softly. She nuzzled Blue’s face. “Gone.” Blue made a noise back, eye-smiling and nodding her head. She and Olga hugged tightly, resting their faces on each other’s shoulders.


	2. Familiarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susie liked cats.

Susie liked cats. She always had, though her family had preferred dogs for the farm work, but cats were special to her. She liked dogs, too, but cats understood you in a way that most dogs couldn’t. They were deep animals, knowing ones, they could feel how you felt on the inside at any given moment and would be there for you if that feeling happened to be hurt. And, they were not totally useless for the farm like her mother tried to allege--the horses liked cats. The cats kept them company. They kept Susie company.  
In that house, they were some of the only she would get, stomping away to Volk in her bedroom.  
She held one now, out behind the company building, a big black cat that had made its way up to her. She’d just gone out for some fresh air, to see the snow for a little while, when it had wandered up.  
She pet it gently, under the chin, and around the ears. It purred strongly and didn’t make any attempt to leave her arms. She smiled warmly down at it, the sweet thing. She rubbed its head with both hands, balancing it on her legs. It arched its back in approval with its little face stuck up in the air.  
And then it opened its eyes and looked at her, and that was when Susie saw it. She saw a response to something she’d been feeling just before. There was a familiar gleam in them, one from centuries ago, that she had not seen in about that time. Her smile widened. Another cat appeared from behind a wall, and then another. They did not meow, they did not stop until they had reached her feet, and once they did, they simply sat down and stared. There was a crowd of them gathered around her, looking at her with eyes that moved with the world. Susie was grinning. She saw a woman in them, older, with brown, curly, short hair.

There was a voice from the door behind her, Veva’s voice. She was calling out her name, she wasn’t sure which one, but she stopped before she could get more than a syllable in. Susie turned her head to look where her lover stood, and so did all of the cats, including the one she held. Something whispered in the air, and like a response, the stunned Veva knelt down on both her knees in the snow.


	3. Grow Back Again: Halfsleeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were just a regular person, having been put against your will into a very not-regular situation.
> 
> (Part 1 of a series of excerpts from a previously written work on my laptop, heavily inspired by the music of Chelsea Wolfe)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an excerpt from an excessively long fanfic i began at the beginning of last february to initially capture how i viewed my self insert and olga's post-movie relationship, and to further explore the concepts i had in mind like gothic imagery+romance, Mother Suspiriorum's personality, looming feelings, like those of doom, anxiety, coping, revenge and longing, and the act of resurrection. this was also my first time properly writing any wlw content, especially self insert content, since this film is the one that made me fully realize i was not straight LOL. once again, please enjoy!

"I have some questions," you said to Mother, glancing down to the floor as you sat the other gown she had given you on the ground, not exactly sure of where to put it. In the center of the room sat a red woven mat, big enough to fit about two people if they were sitting with their knees under them, or so you guessed.  
"Then you may ask," Mother responded winsomely, giving you a cheeky smile as she turned and continued to walk to the northernmost wall of the room. "I'm just going to retrieve a few things that we'll need for tonight. Feel free to talk."  
You stood there awkwardly, hands curled into loose fists at your thighs, watching her red dress flow behind her as she moved. You looked down at yourself, down at the black dress you were wearing. It was soft and flexible, but certainly not cheaply made. That was one thing you noted.  
"What about the matrons?" you asked. Mother placed her palms flat down against the wall. After a few moments of silence, a drawer suddenly emerged out from the stone with a coarse grinding sound, some dust emitting from the space it occupied. You raised your brows, eyes widening. Well, you were certainly not expecting that to happen.  
"What about them?" she asked you back, turning her smiling face back to you over her shoulder. You wanted to walk over and see what in particular was inside of the drawer, but you thought it for the best not to impose yourself like that. Instead you craned your neck subtly to look at the cubby. "Uh," you began, "Well, you told me essentially all that happened from last month, a little before. Wouldn't the matrons not be...I don't know, not very _pleased_ to know that...Olga is back?" You realized you didn't really know what you were saying, but you wanted to get your message across somehow. "I mean, how will they react?"  
Mother Suspiriorum huffed a little laugh, her hands dipping into the drawer, and she responded nonchalantly, "You needn't worry about them. They have no idea of what is going to occur tonight, and once they do get the idea, I can assure you that neither of you will be bothered about it. That’s a promise."  
You blinked. You were interested in what she meant. As much as this witchcraft scared you and, to some extent, you loathed it, it was captivating to think about. What was the method behind this? How could she keep it from the matrons this easily?  
"What's going to happen when they do?" you questioned further, finally feeling confident enough to step forward some more towards the mat. "What do you mean by, 'get the idea'? I mean, they’ll eventually see her, but--"  
Mother pulled out a few old looking candles and their holders from the drawer, and she looked at you again, clearly glad and willing to indulge your questions. She seemed happy that you were asking them. She sat the supplies down on a small stone protrusion from the wall above the drawer.  
"Once Olga comes back, my magic will be all over her," she explained. She pressed her palms flat down against the outside of the drawer again and slowly pushed it back in. "And you, too, to an extent. My daughters will be able to sense it. My magic will also serve as a sort of warning to them, something that marks you and lets them know exactly who brought Olga back, et cetera. They'll know I was involved, and for that, they will not touch you. It will ward them off. They also won't truly be able to tell that she's here until they _do_ see her; going into the dormitory they may sense a presence but they won't be able to tell to whom or what it belongs. "How they will react long term, however..." Mother sighed through her nose, hands on the stone shelf, looking down contemplatively at the candles and matches she'd collected. "That is the question. They will have to face her in rehearsals, in passing and in recitals, which I'm sure will be strange and uncomfortable. But I'm more worried about my daughters than I am Olga, to be honest."  
This gave you an odd pause. Now you were a little alert. You didn't know what she meant by that last sentence, and the way in which she spoke didn't actually sound very concerned. It felt more humorous, flippant. "What do you mean?" you asked quickly, perking up. "She’ll be angry...?"  
"Oh, most definitely," Mother stated, ominously. She turned to look at you again, that resigned but ever polite look on her face. "She is angry right now. I can feel the anger come off of her just as strongly as the longing she feels for you, her friends and her family. She is very vindictive."  
Something about Suspiriorum saying this made your face grow hot, right across the tops of your cheeks. You know it wasn't an insult, but that was nearly how it registered to you with the way she'd worded it. You weren't angry but you were flustered and wanted to jump to defend Olga--she was _not_ vindictive.  
You didn't do that, though. The moment passed quickly and you recovered from the surprise of Mother’s words, smoothing your ruffled feathers back down. The heat in your face died.  
Mother seemed not to mind your reaction. She just smirked a little at you and then said, "Would you like to help me set the candles around the mat, and light them?" You paused before responding, "Yeah." You made your way over to where she stood and took a few of the candles and their holders in your hands, then turned to the mat. You let Suspiriorum go ahead of you to watch and see how she put them down first, as you imagined there had to be some kind of pattern to follow, but she seemed to just sit them wherever she pleased. Slowly, you started to place yours on the ground, too. Just wherever looked right, you guessed. You waited to see if the witch would say anything to correct you, but she did not. You slightly pushed a few of them to be more in line with her’s. Mother returned to the shelf to retrieve the matches. A dip of horrible anxiety suddenly fell into your gut as you looked at the box she held. It'd smacked you in the face again just how real this was--oh, God, you were really going to do this. Mother Suspiriorum opened the little box and pulled one of the matches out. She lit it on the first strike, and the flame held large and steady as she knelt down. It did not travel up the match as she lit all of the candles in the direction of the broken circle you'd each created with them, starting from the upper right hand side and going around until she reached the left. You clenched your fists at your sides.  
When she was done, she blew the match out, only needing the one breath. You swore that a small, cold breeze wisped past your face as she did. With no clear cause nor warning, the sepulchral lamps dimmed some. You could hear your own heavy breathing, and you began to feel sick to your stomach.  
"Come," Mother said, having appeared at your side. You jumped and whipped your head to look at her, and you knew the fear was showing on your face now. With every passing moment, things became realer and realer. The witch held out her hand. "Don't be afraid," she half-whispered, a part of her orange hair falling around her face. "I promise there's nothing up my sleeves, Blue."  
There was something so warm in those last words, radiating from her black-brown eyes, and so sincere. You sighed, shoulders drooping a little, lowering your guard. You were more nervous now than ever before, though. You thought you were going to go mad. Hesitantly, you reached forward, and took the hand she offered you. Her grip was stronger than yours as she led you slowly to the mat again, walking across it carefully so that she was on the other side. She turned and then took your other hand before kneeling down so that she was fully sitting with her legs folded under her. You followed and did the same. Exactly how you’d assumed you’d have to sit on a mat this size. You could feel your heart beating in your throat.  
Mother rubbed her thumbs over the top of your hands, holding them steadily in between the both of you. She looked down at them, and then up to your face. She looked determined, expression highlighted in the glow of the candles that surrounded you both.  
"Are you ready?" she asked. You sat there and breathed for another moment, looking away, hating yourself for even feeling like you had to ‘decide’. Don't be a coward now, you thought to yourself, but then a wash of fainter whispers came over you to reassure you.   
You weren't a coward. No, you were just a regular person, having been put against your will into a horribly not-regular situation. You had every right to be scared, to be second guessing every little thing that happened between you and Mother Suspiriorum and all of this. But you also knew the truth. You knew the truth, and you knew what you had to do. For her, for Olga.

You shut your eyes and responded, quietly, "Yes."


	4. Grow Back Again: The Culling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is here for you, Blue.

Dread and paranoia consumed you. It was ominous, the way that you found the note, and then not a few days later you chose to take the step that Olga would not and tried to find out exactly what it was that the matrons were doing here. Grief had fucked up your sleep schedule royally, and it was sick but you realized that if it hadn’t then you would have never heard the footsteps. From one end of the building to the other, heels clacking against the floor downstairs, the sound echoing up through the thin drywall. They came in rows, with only short spaces in between. The muffled clatter would stop for a bit, but then start up again. It did this a few times, and it was certainly not the girls.  
The frantic feeling that you had to get downstairs before the sounds stopped surged through you and you got out of your room as fast as you could. You realized just how risky that was (what if they saw you?), but you were afraid that you would lose them if you didn't move. You could hear the general directions from which they were walking to where they seemed to stop, but you couldn't exactly figure out where they went. There was nothing on that side of the building that you knew of that could warrant what sounded like every single company worker in the house moving in groups--and apparently still dressed--towards it. Upon making it to the landing, you could partially see over the rail two of the matrons walking through the main hall. You froze and your blood ran cold, and you were sure they had noticed you in that moment...but they hadn't. They kept walking, oblivious, chatting quietly in French. Forcing yourself to move again, you slinked down the stairs, taking the lightest steps you could with your bare feet, and praying to God that no more of them would be coming behind you. You moved quickly, staying close to the wall and some distance behind the two women you'd chosen to follow, while also making sure to spare many quick glances over your shoulder. You were listening like a hawk for any sounds from behind, new ones coming from the front, and just hoping that the exceptional darkness of the hall would obscure you at the distance you were walking if the two ahead of you decided to turn their heads. Somehow, you made it safely to your destination: the audition room. You flashed back to a phone call with Olga, who’d cried and begged you not to come back.  
She’d said Patricia spoke of secret areas.  
You could barely breathe, but you waited for the matrons to open the door and step inside. Once they were, and the door shut behind them, you slid forward, frazzled out of your mind but having to know what in the hell was going on here.  
When you were closest to the door, you could hear what sounded like another one opening and shutting from within the room. You knew it wasn't the other door leading back out. You felt some kind of obscene deja vu when you stepped into the dimly lit room of mirrors, watching your reflections warp in front of you, and trying to find the entrance to wherever the matrons had gone--preferably before more arrived and found you. The entire room had become disorienting and the room smelled thickly of death. Hell was behind that door.  
This time, your memory didn't fade, but quickly shifted. Everything had suddenly gone dark again, and your breath hitched in your chest. What was happening now?  
The blackness lifted the next moment but only slightly, and you could see the mirrors again, but they were distorted by a warping fog. Tingles crept up the sides of your face as sounds began to fade in, and they were unlike any sounds you'd heard in this void. This was totally foreign to you, but even so, it eventually became more and more apparent what--who--you were hearing.

"Patricia is gone, Olga. We don't know where."

"You can't even be bothered..."

"...such shit."

"...ein, und zwei, und drei, und..."

" **_Bедьма!_ ** "

"There's more in that building than what you can see."

"...and who won't be heartbroken if she's shot by police?"

"You manipulate everything."

"--she's had enough, and is going to get the fuck out from this box of rabies!"

There was movement within the barely visible mirrors. The words were being spliced with the sounds of screams, raising in volume, the most agonized and primal screams you'd ever heard in your life--and they belonged to Olga. The movement was Olga. The movement was violent, and though she was alone, she was not the one doing it--  
Her body was breaking into pieces.  
A scream tore out of your own throat and you brought your hands to your eyes, clawing and scraping at them, kicking out into the blackness you were suspended in. The sound was too much in your ears, too loud, and it made them throb. You felt like your insides were going to burst out of your abdomen, like you and your blood were about to come out of your skin. Your voice radiated and echoed shrilly as you fought back against what you were seeing.  
And then, Mother Suspiriorum's voice broke through the vision, louder than the screams and the sounds of cracking:

_ Don't be afraid! Don't open your eyes, and don't be afraid! You're not going to hear anymore of it. You're not going to see it. It's over now! _

You gasped and heaved, contorting your body as you still tried to get away, even your own voice sounding like it was coming from within your mind. You wanted to forget about it, you wanted to forget about what you'd just seen now--you knew what it was. You knew. Mother had kept all of the details from you but she'd said enough for you to know exactly what that was. You knew. You screamed again, now covering your ears, trying to curl inwards.   
A ghostly hand grazed over your mouth, and your entire body relaxed at once. The emotions weren't gone, of course, but they had been successfully calmed for now. You felt something draw you to whoever the hand had belonged to, because in your gut you knew that that wasn't...anyone you knew at all. You knew how Mother felt, you knew how Olga felt, even Sara and Patricia. This wasn't their aura. You reached out unsteadily to try and find it again, but it was already long gone.  
Your mind was so tired now, but you weren't done yet. Another light breeze came around your upper back and this one _was_ Mother. You instinctively moved closer to her, seeking her protection from the horrors you'd witnessed, solace from the pain of Olga's death, the pain of your friend's deaths, everything. Everything. She took one of your hands, and whispered to you, 

_ Someone is here for you, Blue. _

Another hand, much more solid than Mother's, roughly and quickly grabbed your free one and thrust you back to the surface.


	5. Grow Back Again: Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pieces of a puzzle, some broken, some put back.

You lay on the floor of the octagonal room. Your world shook around you, blacking out every few seconds, but your brain didn't totally shut off--you were still conscious. You pulled in deep breaths, as if you had just ceased breathing for minutes, and pressed your palms flat as you moved uselessly across the ground. You tried to find your grip on lucidity again. You couldn't hear anything, either, not definitively. Your brain was totally swamped, you felt like you'd just had the most vivid dream, a dream that was a dream but it was also completely real, and you couldn't actually fully wake yourself up. It kept pulling you under, and you weren't even sure that the ground you were touching was real.  
You pushed around some more before finally finding your way onto your back. You caught glimpses of the ceiling in low light as you dipped in and out, but nevertheless you at least tried to keep your limbs moving; the last functioning part of your mind was telling you that if you did this, maybe it might help to keep you from completely passing out.  
Eventually, your senses did come back to you. You still panted heavily, rolling slowly on your side, as the room actually came back into an admittedly blurry but more solid view. You forced your eyelids up as best as you could, making your way onto your stomach again and pressing your hands back down. Sounds of coughing and gasping were coming from the side of the room opposite your position, and you could hear the sounds of movement from there.  
You breathed out hoarsely. Your brain clicked back on, partially, and you remembered what you were doing. The floor felt harder and colder under your hands than ever and you quickly whisked yourself around, pushing yourself up unsteadily, urgently. You immediately moved in the direction of the sounds, and...  
There she was.  
Olga, laying on the ground, chest heaving and eyes wide, her wavy light brown hair splayed out wetly around her head and inexplicably wearing that second dress you'd brought with you. Olga--your Olya--the one who promised to never leave you and even in death she kept that promise. She sucked life into her lungs desperately. Mother knelt beside her and turned to look at you as soon as you were up. She looked tired, too, which was a way that you'd never seen her before, but even then she kept smiling. It was firm and proud and ignited and had a finality so strong to it that you could infer just from her face alone what she was trying to say: 'We've done it.'  
Your body jolted towards Olga and you could feel the tears coming up as nothing but pure and raw emotion consumed every part of you. Nothing else existed in this world right now except for you, and her, and that was it. Mother moved out of the way so that you could get to her, just in time before you accidentally collided with her. You stopped, hovering and looking down upon Olga, hands held out to touch her face but you were a little afraid to just yet. You didn't know what kind of state she was in right now, or if it was even safe to touch her, you didn't want to make her upset or hurt her in any way. She still lay there, body arching as she tried to breathe, big green eyes darting around frantically, as if she could not see you. You bared your teeth, though, unable to stop the sob that came out. It was her. It was finally her again. She looked no different from how she had when you last saw her, not at all; it seemed that Mother had kept her promise.  
When you started to cry, she looked at you almost immediately. Her breathing shuddered and then quieted some, steepening, and her eyes began to dart across your body instead of the room. It was like she was trying to take you in, register you, who you were and if you were really there--just like you were doing with her. Her face started to slowly shift, lips parting more and brows inching closer together with emotion of her own. You lowered your hands to cup her cheeks, unable to say anything, just crying through a clenched jaw. Olga's eyes glossed over, and her breaths continued to shake, now coming in a little faster and shorter, and she gripped your arms. She pulled in one last breath that came back out as a sob. It was you.  
She clawed her way up your arms to hug you, and you dipped into her, pressing your chest tightly against hers and wringing your hands behind her head to wrap your arms around her neck. She gripped and pulled at the fabric of your dress over your back, entire body tremoring, trying to wrap herself around you. She shoved her head into the crook of your neck as loud and violent cries burst out of her, and you tightened around her, trying to pull her as close to you as humanly possible. You had to feel her, every part of her, the warmth and life that glowed under her skin, the love for you that she overflowed with and you had to let her feel your love, too.  
You were unable to hold still, haphazardly writhing and swaying as you tried to find the best possible way to embrace after so long--all of the sadness, pain, and agony, all undeserved, that had been dealt to the both of you over the course of this year. Now you were finally one again, a holy reunion that was far overdue. You both wept loudly against each other, reveling in the feeling of the other's form beneath your limbs and hands and against your legs and ribs, and it truly felt like no hug could ever be tight enough to express the utter catharsis you felt at this moment. The relief, the retribution, the healing, the sheer happiness that this brought you. It was electrifying, how so much of the grief you'd accumulated could be so easily stripped away and dissolved as if it were nothing.  
Half of this puzzle was still assembled wrongly, half thrown away, pieces fitting that shouldn't, a mystery to you both--but at least these pieces had been put back together the right way.


	6. Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olga makes a very important phone call in the dead of a frozen Berlin night.

There was a jacket in the closet that had not been there when you'd last checked it after the ritual, a beige trench coat. It was Olga's.  
It was absolutely terrifying to leave the room, at this hour, knowing that you weren't supposed to, but you weren't about to make Olga suffer and wait for another day or more before she could talk to her own family again. No one was awake, thankfully, and holding each other's hands you moved as silently but swiftly as possible out of the dormitory, down the stairs, then out the front door. You and Olga both had just layered on the warmest clothes and socks you could find over (and under) your pajamas, threw on your jackets and then some gloves. This was an insane thing to attempt, but you were going to get Olga to that damn payphone, no matter how cold or how late.  
Stepping outside of the building was liberating, to say the least. It felt like you hadn't been out of it in weeks, maybe even a month, even though it had only been three days; the walls had grown tighter and more oppressive around you, closing in and trapping you. There was so much darkness inside that place and it enveloped every turn, every corner and every crevice, it enveloped nearly all of the women you'd come to love and trust within the company and, at the same time, it had made its home in them. They were a part of it, intrinsically, from the outside and the inside. Having to wake up everyday and try to function around them, interact with them, push your way through rehearsals as if nothing was wrong and everything was just as it all seemed (how they'd framed it) was exhausting. To have made it out undetected onto the snowy winter streets of Berlin in the middle of the night, following the sidewalks alongside the beautiful, lovely, strong woman that you called your own, the cold wind blowing in your face and sending fresh air up through your nostrils, was a taste of freedom you'd been waiting for for so long. Olga walked ahead of you, a bit more hurry in her step, her long light brown waves bouncing behind her. She looked so elegant to you against the falling snow that was illuminated by the glow of the streetlamps. In that moment, you had no worries, no responsibilities, no need to hide, no fear of judgment and no fear of being 'caught'. There were no peering eyes out on the street this late, almost no cars driving by, and you realized only just now that this was the first time in all of the time you'd spent in Germany that you had gone out this late of your own accord (and without the knowledge of anyone else, that was). It gave you a little bit of an adrenaline rush, the thrill of it, hand-in-hand with Olga. You looked around like you were seeing something fantastic and new, eyes wide with wonder, beaming. You looked at the snow coming down from the sky, the mounds of it piling on the ground, the salted streets, the lack of people but the lights still glowing from pubs and listening to the distant industrial sounds from other parts of the city, and it was like magic.  
You and Olga walked together, trying to keep close together for safety's sake and moving with intent as you ventured further into the inner city in search of a public phone. You knew it couldn't be much longer before you started to come upon them, and you were right. A few more cars had started to appear where you now were in Berlin, but still not enough to really be that much of a concern, especially not to Olga; she almost burst into a run when she finally spotted the phone, abruptly jerking you along behind her.   
"Olga!" you exclaimed, grabbing her wrist with your free hand, and she looked over her shoulder, slowing down again but still retaining that urgency. "Sorry!" she called to you. She turned to take both of your hands in her own, pulling you more towards the front of her, and doing a glorified power-walk. The cold was starting to infest your throat from how quickly you'd moved to get here and you needed to sit down and catch your breath.  
Olga let go to hurriedly open the glass door of the stall, stepping inside, hands on the phone in an instant. You saw her trying to dial the number with her cold hands before she'd even put any money in, receiver not even to her ear, and you smiled windedly as you dug the coin purse you'd brought along with you out of your jacket pocket.  
"Honey," you said, getting her frazzled attention. She let out an unsteady laugh as she took the purse from you, looking at you with thanks, and then unzipping the purse with hands that were shaky from nerves and cold. Phone held between her arm and her side, she closed her eyes and tried to take a few deep breaths. She dug out the change, trying to go a little more slowly so not to drop it, and then pushed the money into the coin slot. You smiled at her and nodded, stepping away from the stall.  
"I'll leave you to it," you told her gently, before gesturing to the bus stop a few feet away, "I'm gonna sit down, okay?"  
Olga looked at you as she dialed, and then gave you a delayed nod. "Scream if anything happens," she told you, and you laughed.  
You took your seat on the bus stop bench, smoothing more of your sweatshirt and thick jacket under yourself to try and pad the coldness of the metal, and shoved your gloved hands underneath the jacket. You leaned forward to look at Olga from where you were around the overly-fogged and icy glass that shielded the stop from the weather. Olga stood there for a few minutes, seemingly still like the line was still ringing, and then you saw her quickly grasp the phone with both hands. Her back shuddered like she was laughing or crying, and she was clearly talking to someone. A soft smile spread across your face. You rested against the metal frame around the glass and watched her.

*****

After about thirty minutes and several more coin deposits, Olga wrapped up her call to her family. She hung up the phone, and that was when you stood up again and made your way back over to the phonebooth. She continued to stand there for a few more moments, dropping her head and rubbing her face. Though you knew this couldn't have been the case (not likely to be, anyway), of course, you began to worry that something was somehow wrong. More than enough things had gone wrong for Olga over this past year, and you guessed you were just anticipating it at this point. She then turned, opening the door to the booth herself and stepping out. You jogged towards her.  
"How was it?" you asked, reaching out with comforting hands immediately. She was crying, but not heavily, wiping at her face with her sleeve. She just nodded silently at you, not looking right at you, as was usual for her--she didn't like to make eye contact when she was crying. You rubbed her shoulder and upper back anyway, coming in to half-hug her. "Was it alright?"  
"Yeah," she answered, sniffling and swallowing. "They were so excited to hear from me...everyone came to the phone, all my siblings, everyone," she explained with a little laugh. She leaned her head into you and cried a little harder. You kissed her temple.  
"I'm so glad," you said. "I'm so, so glad, Olga. You'll be able to see them again soon, too." Olga nodded her head again, sleeve curled by her mouth. "Yeah," was all she said. She was clearly overwhelmed, and so you didn't ask her any more questions. Instead, you simply turned, arm in arm with her, and began the walk back home.


	7. Bugaboo Respira

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Tanner attempts to pay Mother Suspiriorum a visit in order to discuss Olga's ghostly antics. It doesn't go over how she hopes.

Elizabeth Tanner was going to try and get rid of Olga.  
It had been two weeks since the woman had appeared in the form of a ghost during her sleep paralysis and she had not left Tanner properly alone since. That was meant literally--whether it was a flash during her waking moments to creeping up while she slept, Olga would not leave her alone. She would not admit this, but it was beginning to take a toll, especially during rehearsal. Olga had found her way back into the studio and took no prisoners when she would plant herself in the mirror for a split second or brush behind Tanner’s back. Somehow, none of the other girls seemed to notice anything ‘off’ when Olga would do this, nor did they ever see her like Tanner did; in fact, their morale seemed to actually improve when Olga was present. It was vague but noticeable, they would begin to chat more, they suddenly seemed more encouraged and were ready to tackle the choreographies they were being given. They seemed happier. And then when Olga would go, it would stay that way until the end of class. The next day everything started over again.  
Over and over.  
Tanner could not take it anymore. While she would not willingly fess up to her discomfort, she could not help but make her irritation known, and it was showing in the way she was interacting with the girls and the other matrons. She was more short tempered than usual, less talkative, always on edge. Everyone was noticing. This had to stop.  
She hoped that Mother would help. And so she made her way to the woman’s quarters.

Not without a little interruption, though.

“Why are you trying to make me go away?” Olga asked, her mocking voice echoing from somewhere behind Tanner in the Mütterhaus. Tanner stopped where she stood, hands clenched into fists and nose curled. She turned slowly to look, and there Olga was, this time with her skin more intact and body draped in a long white gown. No, Tanner thought. Don’t entertain her any longer. She continued to walk, back straight and head up. This, unfortunately, did not stop Olga. The ghost began to follow Tanner, without footsteps, a cold breeze wrapping around the older woman.  
Tanner was not going to give in, not this time. If anything good came out of this experience it was at least that she was learning to manage her anger better, even if slowly. Even if it felt like pulling her nails out of their beds one by one. She turned swiftly down the hall that led to Mother and Veva’s shared room.  
Suddenly, she felt something different from anything she had ever felt from Olga before: the force of her hair being yanked.  
Tanner yelped and stumbled backwards, vision shaking. Her hands flew to her hair and she held them there, her entire body shuddering against her will. She could touch her? Olga could touch her now? She swallowed and looked around. Olga was out of sight, but certainly not out of the corridor. Mother Suspiriorum was right there, she reminded herself. Walk. Now.  
So that was what Elizabeth did. She turned and began to walk very, very quickly towards the door, where light crept out from beneath it. Before she could get very far, the feeling of a hand wrapped around her throat.  
She yelled again, a choked sound, and this time fell to the floor. Olga’s grip did not loosen or falter in the slightest as she jerked the other woman down, and Tanner could see her white teeth bared furiously in the dark. Olga held Tanner against the wall, and for whatever horrible reason, struggling against the spirit was extremely hard; pushing back seemed to be of no use. She could not wrench the spectral hand from her neck. She let magic flow into her hands, but as she did, Olga spoke once more.  
“Do you think your Mother will help you?” she hissed, almost touching noses with Tanner, eyes wide. Like the last time, she did not blink, or seem like she even needed to. “Do you think she will hold pity over you for what you did? She’s the one who’s enabled me, idiot! I’m the one who’s been speaking to her!”  
“W-What?” was all Tanner could manage with her airway being cut off. What the fuck did she mean, she was the ‘one’ who’d been speaking to Suspiriorum?!  
“She’ll bring me back, you know. Even if you get rid of me, I will come back. I told you I would always come back. You won’t ever be rid of me, Elizabeth, unless you die. And maybe you should.”  
But, then, Olga let go of Tanner’s throat. Tanner jerked forward and coughed, hand on her chest, trying to catch her breath again. The magic dispersed from her hands. Olga had disappeared.  
She looked around, now thoroughly, genuinely scared. She wanted to assume that Olga had been lying, but how else could she have this sort of power if it wasn’t infused by someone as powerful as a Mother, or close to that? Tanner was once again confused out of her mind, and alarmed. Far more alarmed than that first encounter. Olga had never, ever been able to put a hand on her before.  
(Or had she been able to, and just didn’t? She could kick the bed, after all...)  
All of a sudden, the door to Mother’s quarters opened, and there stood the red haired woman herself. Tanner had no idea what to do or say, still sitting on the cold stone floor, panting.  
“Elizabeth,” Mother said, smiling softly and clasping her hands together. Tanner felt more threatened by this than what Olga had just done, and she supposed she should, she thought bitterly. Veva walked up behind Mother, and looked down at Tanner in a way that was both apprehensive and apologetic.  
“You seem to be having some trouble. Would you like to come in?”


End file.
